Always Greener
by Bytes
Summary: The heir of a Pure Blood family, she is bound by time and tradition to honor her family's wishes. Like a caged bird she struggles for freedom, but whoever said the grass would be greener on the other side? ASTORIA CENTRIC. Her life from beginning to end.
1. Chapter 1

Always Greener

Chapter 01

* * *

I think the earliest memory I have is of my fourth birthday party. It was a lavish affair, complete with a pink cake five tiers high, a tailored dress so itchy I almost wanted to cry, and presents. Mounds of them. I ate cake until I could burst and reveled in the clothes, books, and toys my parents had bought for me. The itchy dress hardly mattered, I was so happy.

My parents—Virgil and Theia Greengrass—stood laughing at my side, beaming at their youngest daughter's antics. Mother's golden-brown hair lay piled on her head, and the deep purple gown she wore complemented her bright blue eyes, making them sparkle. Father's impeccable suit was of the finest cut and cloth—although I could not tell the difference between coarse wool and satin at that point in my life—and his Greengrass eyes glittered with satisfaction.

My sister, Daphne, was less than satisfied. She had inherited our mother's blue eyes while I had inherited our family's famed emerald ones, and as she watched me receive attention from our parents her face turned scarlet with rage.

Father, sensing trouble brewing, had come prepared. Slipping away from my mother and me, he removed a long, flat box from the inside of his coat, knelt before Daphne, and presented it to her with a flourish.

Daphne's foul mood evaporated. She tore open the parcel and squealed when she saw the necklace of green stones set in gold, then threw her arms around our father's neck. He patted her auburn curls, so unlike his own, and kissed her cheek before returning to me.

He didn't think I noticed, but I did.

* * *

Daphne and I have never gotten along—or should I say that Daphne has never gotten along with_ me_? She reduces everything we do to a competition, even my birthday party.

But I suppose that is to be expected in a family such as ours. We are Pure Bloods, an antique line of them stemming from ancient Greece. The Greengrass family was named for its famously green eyes, eyes which have survived the generations to reach me. My father is a Greengrass, eyes and all, and I take after him completely, but our mother married into the family and Daphne takes after her. She and Mother are the odd-balls on the Greengrass family, the only blue-eyed, bright haired people of our entirely green eyed, dark haired clan (for father was the first Greengrass to not marry a cousin in years). From infancy I was hailed as my father's 'true heir' based solely on the color of my eyes and hair, and I don't think Daphne has ever forgiven me for inadvertently pushing her out of the limelight.

She dislikes me, but I've never felt much for her at all, really—not even mild aversion. Just an empty complacency, of sorts, for as I am our father's favorite so Daphne is our mother's. There is balance there, although I still long to be as close to Mother as Daphne is to her, and Daphne wishes to be Father's pet.

I suppose I am the son Father never had. We go riding every day, and hunting on many others. He taught me chess when I was very young, and he and I have always been readers. We enjoy solitary pursuits, academics and logic. Mother and Daphne sew and play the piano and go to parties.

As much as I long for Mother's company, I doubt I could stand their hobbies even if I tried.

* * *

During my childhood, my day typically started in the early morning. A servant woke and dressed me, and I was escorted downstairs to the breakfast table where my father read the Daily Prophet and drank strong coffee. A few teaspoons of the dark stuff were poured into my glass of milk to make me feel more grown up, and Father would smile at me over his paper as I ate a bowl of oatmeal and the fruits of the season. I rarely ate meat.

When I finished my meal, Father would signal the butler to bring a chessboard. The pieces were fashioned of carved jade and precious stones, and they moved with utter grace. I could never beat Father, and I never suspected that he wasn't trying to win.

By the time our game ended, my pony and his Arabian black were saddled and waiting by our manor house's front door. We would parade out, him in his riding leathers and me in my suede riding dress, and ride over the grounds until lunch.

Our usual destination was a place simply called 'The Hill,' and its name denotes exactly what it was. A bare hump rising from the forest that grew on our land, The Hill afforded us a view of all of the estate. The manor looked like a child's toy from the top.

"Astoria," Father said to me on many occasions as he looked out over his property with pride, "someday, you will own this place. It is your birthright."

Shortly after that, we would ride back for lunch. Father would then disappear into his study, and I would be left in the care of one nursemaid or another unless Mother and Daphne were actually home. They spent their days making social calls on family friends and rarely came home before my bed time.

Father would reappear around dinner time, and we would spend our remaining hours together reading or playing chess. Then it was off to bed with me, and as the nurse extinguished the lamps my mother would come breezing into my room with a sweet-scented kiss. Daphne always stood in the doorway, glaring at me while Mother's back was turned, and would then vanish into her own bedroom.

I never had trouble falling asleep. Daphne's glare was simply part of the routine, although I can't help but wonder...

Would things be different now if I hadn't been so complacent?

* * *

_So I like writing romance/drama fiction, but I hate being out of canon when it comes to partners in a relationship. When I heard that Draco gets married to a practically unknown character (Astoria Greengrass), I jumped at it. I can mold a canon character to my own ideas? Perfect._

_This is Astoria centric; it's about her entire life, and not just her life with Draco. It's all here, beginning to end, and Draco is only one small part of it. It only gets heavily romantic/dramatic later in the story, after she and Draco both leave Hogwarts._

_The story's format will simply be a collection of Astoria's most vivid memories, all from her point of view. Later in the story (when actual plot becomes more heavy) I might switch to a more novel-esque format, but right now, as I explore her childhood, it will be the memory system._

_Review, please._


	2. Chapter 2

Always Greener

Chapter 02

* * *

I remember when things started to change. I was eight years old.

Daphne was busy getting ready for Hogwarts. Two years my senior, she would be turning eleven just in time to attend Hogwarts, and the summer was filled with preparations. I looked on jealously as she packed a trunk and took trip after trip to Diagon Alley—Mother forbade me to go with them, citing that my turn would come eventually.

Father, just like at my long-ago birthday party, took action. One night as Mother, Daphne, and I sat at the dinner table in the manor's huge dining hall, Father came in still dressed in his riding clothes. Behind him trailed a gardener carrying a large sphere hung with a blue cloth.

"I have a present for you, Astoria," he said, kneeling next to my chair. Taking the ball from the gardener, he whipped off the covering to reveal a spherical wicker cage. Inside was a blue jay, body bound in strips of cloth to keep its wings from moving.

My eyes went very wide. I had never been so close to a bird before, and her beetle-black eyes seemed to hold uncanny intelligence. Afraid to move or breathe for fear of scaring her, I accepted the wicker cage in small white hands that trembled with excitement.

"She's injured," Father told me as I settled the cage on my lap. "Do you think you can take care of her for a week or two? Just until her wing heals."

Daphne, disliking the attention I was garnering from Father, turned up her nose.

"Birds are dirty creatures!" she snapped. "Have fun with your bird while I'm at Hogwarts, Tori!"

My eyes filled with tears at her mean words. I wanted to go to school so badly that it hurt, but when I saw the jay's blue-black eyes and silvery wings, my fears melted away. I turned to the gardener and summoned the pride my mother insisted I had—my Greengrass pride.

"Sir," I said, attempting to sound authoritative, "I will need to know what she eats and how to change the wrappings on her wings. I will need sufficient toys for her amusement. I will need—"

The party looked on in silence as the tiny, youngest daughter ordered around the pure-blood head gardener, and jaws dropped as he—heavens above!—obeyed with a bow and the phrase "Yes, M'lady Greengrass" without a glimmer of disdain in his eye. When he left, my father placed a loving hand on my shoulder.

"You are well on your way to becoming an adult, aren't you, Astoria?" he asked, beaming at me. "A true Greengrass." He turned an emerald eye on his other daughter, and he met her blue eyes with a look I couldn't read but would, years later, realize was disappointment mixed with sorrow. "Do try to take a little of that Greengrass manner to Hogwarts this year, Daphne."

Daphne froze, then melted as fury turned her cheeks red and narrowed her eyes into slits. Although she whispered "Yes, Father," her eyes were locked on me and glimmering with rage. She pushed herself away from the table and made to walk out of the dining room without another word, but at the door she stopped.

"I hope you have fun with your stupid bird," she said to the door, but her words flew straight into my heart. "I hope it dies while in that cage."

I hardly noticed Mother's indignant cry and Father's harsh rebuke, nor his demand for an apology on my behalf, because I found myself unable to move, eyes locked with the jay's. Only in them, I felt, could I find shelter from the poisonous remarks of my sibling, words that continued to ring inside my head until the day I set the blue jay free.

And, with the jay, I released a part of myself I had never known existed.

* * *

_AUTHOR'S NOTE_

_Unfortunately for my story, blue jays don't live in England. Crap. I wanted Astoria to have a brightly colored yet commonplace bird to associate herself with, and blue jays came to mind before I did any habitat research. Blue jays are an incredibly intelligent specie; a relatively unknown fact is that they can mimic human speech as successfully as any parrot (as they are in the corvid, AKA crow, family) and that they mimic cries of hawks to scare away would-be predators. They are intelligent enough to use limited tools to get food while in captivity, but captivity tends to shorten their lifespan._

_The jay will be a focal point of the next few chapters. I apologize for the long delay in updates and this shortness of this one. They will be both quicker to appear and possess longer word count in future.  
_

_By the way, I don't have many chapters about Daphne and Astoria playing together as children—mainly because they DIDN'T play together much, as I explained. But if you all want some chapters of the few times they did interact prior to this incident, let me know via review. I just felt they'd get repetitive so I left them out, but I already have them written up, so… yeah. If you want 'em, come 'n get 'em._


	3. Chapter 3

Always Greener

Chapter 03

* * *

Caring for the jay consumed me. Father built her a lovely cage with magic, a miniature castle made of wicker that sat on the ground in one of our many gardens' courtyards. It stretched to be twice as tall as I was and nearly five times as wide. Networks of ladders made of woven silk connected miniature platforms within the cage to each other, providing a pathway for the bird to climb about since her wing prohibited her from flight. I didn't question how the cage and ladders stayed clean of bird droppings; Father or one of the gardeners must have been taking care of it.

Intent on making her stay comfortable, I surrounded the jay with mirrors and bits of mismatched jewelry, for the gardener—a man I learned was named Elzor Blanche—informed me they enjoyed the shine of light on objects, and that the jay would horde the pieces like a miserly crow. He was right; I rarely saw those pieces after surrendering them to the greedy jay. Earrings filched from Mother's seldom-used jewelry boxes were the bird's favorite, and a handful of Sickles and Knuts from Father's money pouch looked beautiful hanging from the silk ribbons Mother gave me for my hair. Elzor bored holes in them for me with his wand, and he even helped me tie them up within the cage. I could almost imagine the bird thanking me for the treasures as she nibbled at the coins and squirreled away the jewels.

Mr. Blanche became a sort of grandfather to me. He was older than Father, with a gray beard that fell to his chest and hands worn brown and rough by constant toil, and although his manner was somewhat course he was still a Pure-blood with powerful magic and an undeniable dedication to my father and the entire Greengrass family. The Blanches had served the Greengrass for generations, and all the knowledge of his forebears had been passed to him. He knew everything about birds and their habits—he taught me to dig for worms in the garden to feed the jay with, taught me what it meant when she fluffed her feathers or chirped a certain way, and how to change the wrap and potion he used to treat her injuries.

"Birds don't react so well to magic as other animals," he told me, straightening the bird's wing with sure fingers before my very eyes. "They're very intelligent; why do you think we use them to deliver post? Anyway, they tend to heal better on their own than with magical help. They don't like being poked and prodded by wands and such—wild birds don't even like being touched by our hands." He rubbed his finger's down the wing bone and felt for unevenness, and I watched the process with eyes that devoured everything. The jay did the same, her beetle black eyes glittering like an onyx abyss. "They can hear everything you say, Lady Astoria. Birds are people, too—only smaller, and with wings."

I spent much of that season at Elzar's cottage, a small, quaint building on the edge of the Greengrass gardens, learning the secrets of birds and flowers from him. Mother hated that I spent so much time in a servant's presence—even a Pure-blood servant was still a servant to my mother—but Father allowed it. Encouraged it, even. When Mother brought it up at the dinner table one night, Father had this to say about it:

"Astoria is a Greengrass!" he exclaimed, setting down his wineglass with more force than necessary. Red wine sloshed onto the white tablecloth, staining it crimson. "The Blanche family has served ours for generations, as they will continue to do so in Astoria's lifetime. By associating herself with them she has proved she is a conscientious and personable employer, and when it comes time for her to take control of this family they will be willing to transfer their loyalty to her without question!"

Mother's face turned white, then scarlet with rage. "Have you forgotten, Virgil?" she said, rising from the table with shaking hands. "Your firstborn—your heir—is Daphne, not Astoria!"

He regarded her with a cool eye. "The identity of my heir," he said, "is decided by aptitude and the will of the rest of the Greengrass clan, not by birth order."

"But Daphne—"

"--is self absorbed and immature," Father interjected. "Her test scores and letters home say as much."

Daphne had been at school for a month at that point, and her grades were less than up to Mother and Father's standards. It seemed all she cared about was social climbing: every time she wrote a letter home Mother would read it aloud at the dinner table, and every letter was filled with gossip—who had been wearing what, the fights, the friendships, the dirty secrets of her roommates. She even wrote that Harry Potter—_the_ Harry Potter—had been sorted into Gryffindor. He was the arch enemy of a fellow Slytherin celebrity, Draco Malfoy. She had taken a fancy to the young Malfoy, she wrote, be he never gave her the time of day.

Mother fumed. "She is situating herself with fellow Pure-bloods," she snarled, golden hair escaping from its elegant up-do to fall into her cerulean eyes. "She is forging alliances that will serve this family for years to come! That's more than your little shut-in has even accomplished!"

I shrank in my chair. True, I had no friends my own age (or specie for that matter), but all of the family friends I had met were visibly impressed by my demeanor and intelligence (or so Father told me). Was being a socialite such an important thing? Feeling uneasy, I began to think over my habits: was reading everything I could get my hands on detrimental to my status? Was enjoying chess not feminine enough? I had never though about myself objectively until that point—not once, not ever—and the thought that maybe things were not as normal as I had assumed frightened me.

Father, for the first time in my waking memory, sneered at Mother. "She is forging them at the cost of her education and reputation," he said. "I spoke to one of her so-called friend's fathers last week. He remarked that his daughter spoke ill of Daphne's intelligence, calling her stupid and ill-mannered, although not in so many words. I am prone to agree with him. Apparently a Mudblood has taken top marks in all of Daphne's classes."

His harsh words struck Mother dumb. She reeled backward, then covered her mouth with her slim white hand as her eyes filled with tears.

"Daphne is your child," she said, lips quivering.

"My child, yes," said Father. "But she is not, so far as I can tell, my heir."

I said nothing as Mother fled from the room, trailing muffled sobs behind her. I did not look at Father as he used the tip of his wand to vaccum up his spilled wine, nor did I dare to watch him sit down and finish his dinner. He left me alone at the table, in no mood for chess that night, so I stole out of the manor and into the garden under the burning glory of a sunset.

The jay sat perched on the highest platform of her cage, head cocked as she listened to a sound I could not hear. Her eyes were far away, beholding distances I had never seen, but when I spoke she turned her attention to me.

"Mother dislikes me, and Father dislikes Daphne," I said. "Something like that, at any rate."

The jay chirped like a small silver bell, and my eyes devoured her form. Royal blue plumage bled into darker shades of navy and lighter shades of sky blue; within her feathers lay deep purple and lilac shades, ones which escaped all but the most studious of viewers. I knew every feather, however, and saw it all.

"I feel something," I said to the jay. "I've never felt this way before."

The jay reached out with her black beak and delicately nibbled at one of the cage bars, then looked at me.

I stared back at her, puzzled. Then it dawned on me what she was trying to say. "Yes, I suppose I do feel trapped," I said. "I never knew Father expected so much from me. And Mother--" I shuddered. "I have disappointed her, but I have pleased Father. What a trade."

The jay hopped down to my eye level, and all at once I was stunned by her beauty. I had tried holding her only a few times, because she struggled and bit and scratched whenever I attempted to touch her. Only when charmed by magic into submission would she permit being held. Her sheer wildness intimidated me, but at the same time it afforded her a seductive pull that was its very own brand of magic.

"If only I could be like you," I said, leaning my forehead against the cage. "Wild, untamed... free!" The last word—_free!_—left my lips in a shuddering whisper, a breath of air tinged with hope and longing.

But then I saw the beautiful cage around my blue bird and the shining Sickles dangling from their strands of silk, and I felt the tremor of hope welling within my breast take flight and disappear.

* * *

_AUTHOR'S NOTE_

_Vague Hermione reference and a blunt Harry/Draco reference in this chapter—Daphne is in the same year as the dynamic trio. Astoria is two years their junior, the same year as Ginny Weasley._

_So this chapter was longer than the last (yes!), and we begin to see Astoria's downward spiral into cynicism and forced introversion. She has begun to see her life as the cage that it is; her awakening, of sorts, is at hand. A climactic portion of the story is coming soon, so stay tuned. _

_I appreciate reviews. _


	4. Chapter 4

Always Greener

Chapter 04

* * *

Days spent digging for worms and hanging bright coins from pretty ribbons in the blue jay's cage did not last long. Before a month was up it was time for her bandages to come off for good.

"She's going back to the woods today!" I said, a bundle of nervous excitement as I bounced in my chair at the breakfast table. Ever since Mother's outburst at dinner several weeks earlier, I had hated the sight of the cage holding my blue jay hostage and the thought of releasing her to her real home thrilled me. As much as I loved her, she would be better off free.

She had become less complacent with her situation as her wounds mended, nibbling harder at her cage bars and shrieking at passersby more often. Her irritability also translated itself into visible restlessness—she hobbled across the ramps in her cage without rest, bright black eyes darting about looking for escape. No more did she pluck and stare at the coins and pretty jewels in her cage; she even ignored the food I brought her. Feathers fell out, leaving her balding in spots, and I hated the look of trapt rage that colored her soul-deep eyes.

Father put down his fork and gave me a calculating look.

"You're going to let the bird go, Astoria?" he asked, staring me down with an expression that bordered on disappointment.

I dropped my eyes from his to stare at my hands, white fingers clutched together on my lap. I could not bear that look; could not let Father down. But, perhaps, I could reason with him... couldn't I? He might take what I had to say to heart!

"She is healthy," I said, trying to keep my voice from shaking as I attempted to argue with Father for the first time in my short life. "She should return to her home."

Mother said nothing, but she did stare at Father with narrowed eyes. She looked particularly beautiful that morning, with bright blue gems twined on silver strands throughout her wheat-gold hair. Her eyes, however, showed none of their beautiful blue; they were merely suspicious slits of glittering malice.

"Why not keep her for a pet?" Father said, also looking resplendent in his black robes and pinstriped undershirt. Green eyes that mirrored my own showed confusion and a hint of anger. "I am sure your mother would allow it."

Mother's eyes dropped in submission as Father shot her a ferocious glare that read 'You will keep out of this, Theia, if you know what is good for you.' I tried not to notice, but I did.

"I could keep her," I said to Father, feeling as if the world had slipped from a knife's keen edge and into an abyss, "but she deserves to go home. She is a wild bird, after all, and—"

Father leaned forward across the table. "And she will need friends to feel at home, of course," he said, "and I thought of that." He stood and extended a hand to me across the table. "Come with me, Astoria."

I took his hand hesitantly, following him outside while Mother trailed behind us in growing confusion. He led us on a path through the gardens, winding amongst perfect flower beds in full bloom. As we neared the courtyard my blue jay had taken for her own, I caught the unmistakable sound of birdsong warbling over the wind. A lot of birdsong—too much birdsong!

I soon could see why. Dozens of cages suspended in the air by magic floated throughout the courtyard, parakeets and finches and more exotic birds encased in them all. Jewel-bright and carefree, they flew about like living ornaments of satin and silk. They twittered and chirped and cheeped a mad chorus of mixed songs, and my brain hurt even as my eyes began to well with tears.

No. I did not want this.

"Do you like it?" Father was saying. "I know you must be lonely, with Daphne gone, but now both you and your blue jay have so many friends. Aren't you happy?"

I couldn't help it—the tears spilled out, and my hands went up to cover my face. My blue jay stood in her cage, listless and dull-eyed, watching her 'friends' fly about without expression. More feathers had fallen from her head, leaving her as bald as a vulture and as expressive as a statue.

"What's wrong?" Father asked, but he made no move to comfort me. Mother stood awkwardly behind him, unsure of how to react, as I cried into my hands at the caged birds' plight, and at the fact that all but the jay were ignorant to their own captivity.

They left me there, prey to my tears, for a good five minutes without saying a word. Surrounded by their presence and birdsong, I had never felt more alone.

* * *

_NOTES_

_I received a bunch of "Ginny and Astoria aren't in the same year" reviews, and you are all right—I had written the facts down but was recalling them from memory in my author's note, and suffice to say I misquoted my research. Embarrassing! Romilda Vane is in Astoria's year; any other characters you guys can think of?? Specifically Slytherins and Ravenclaws?_

_To "D"--While I agree that house elves are, without a doubt, typical wizarding household servants, I don't think they are the only beings wizards would employ to keep up a house. For instance, gardening and the upkeep of an estate do not seem to me to be house elf jobs, whereas cooking and cleaning are obviously tasks that fit their job description. After all, who would show a visitor into a Pure-blood's home? I wouldn't think a house elf! To me, house elves seem to be creatures who are preferred to remain unseen and whose touch should be appreciated from afar. Even the Hogwarts house elves were invisible until Dobby appeared, and even then their presence remained subtle. I would have sent you this in an email, but you didn't leave one._

_Sorry this was so short, but I loved the ending and the next chapter is a biggy. Please leave me a review if you feel like it._


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